


Ripple

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [160]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Disabled Character, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Peace, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 10:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: "I think he'd be proud."





	Ripple

   The air around them was still, barely a breeze sliding off the lake at the newly constructed Avengers headquarters, only mildly less ostentatious than the previous one. Stephen sat on the warm wooden planks of the deck, finger scratching mindlessly on the grain, while Tony sat opposite him, attempting to follow the patterns carefully.

   It was difficult getting used to the new arm, Stephen knew. It certainly didn’t help that he refused a physical therapist and the one-time Sam suggested Bucky might help him, had been met with an understandably murderous glare.

   It fell to Stephen, no matter how often he protested that he wasn’t that kind of doctor.

   Not that he really minded.

   Tony blew a sigh of irritation as the full-bodied shudder went through the arm, a ripple moving across the smooth metal. It was a feat of engineering to be sure, but even the most advanced of prototypes were going to have problems.

   “I’m done,” Tony announced, leaning back and shaking out the gleaming arm.

   They’d barely been at it for thirty minutes, still Stephen relented without a word. His own trembling fingers kept brushing against the rough surface, however, fascinated by the little bit of sensation that made it through the damaged nerves and scar tissue.

   “You know,” Tony commented, reaching over the edge to run his very human hand through the chilly water. “My father used to say Stark men were made of Iron.” He flexed the fingers of his new one. “I wonder what he’d say now.”

   “Probably something about the design. I don’t imagine he’d have been fond of the red and yellow.”

   Tony snorted, “You might be surprised, his early car designs were pretty out there.”

   Stephen shook his head, diverting his attention to the ducks gliding smoothly across the surface of the lake. For a wild moment he found himself contemplating whether or not that duck might have been part of the dusted lifeforms a year ago.

   “I wonder what he would have thought about all this.”

   Glancing over at his lover, Stephen found Tony watching the same animal ducking beneath the surface, brows furrowed, and lips tipped down. Tony had been growing more contemplative these days, not that Stephen blamed him. It was inevitable really that someone might be that way between age and the realities of mortality being pressed upon them.

   “You really mean you wonder what he would have thought of you.”

   Tony grimaced.

   Stephen reached across the space between them to carefully take Tony’s hand in his. The metal was cool to the touch, almost painful on the sensitive skin but warm quickly to his temperature. Tony’s eyes were glued to where they touched, lip being bitten harshly as he tried to control the appendage enough to squeeze Stephen’s hand without causing pain. He was successful and Stephen let him know with a gentle smile.

   “What do you think he might say?”

   Tony was quick to divert his attention back to the now empty surface of the lake. Stephen didn’t press, letting him consider it quietly. While Tony did just that, Stephen found himself marveling at the man’s profile. It was never not surreal to be by his side, next to him, watching him think and speak and come alive.

   More often than not, Stephen found his hand coming up to finger the stone that still hung subtly around his neck, listening to its whispered reassurances that this was real, that it was all real. It didn’t make believing any easier.

   “I’m not a good man,” Tony said finally. “I’ve done too much wrong to own that title I think.”

   Stephen nodded slowly, “perhaps. Though I suppose the point is for everyone to reach towards that.”

   The smallest of smiles quirked his lips, “I’m not a good man but I am a better one, than before.”

   “Peter would disagree,” Stephen commented.

   “Good. Let the kid be disillusioned forever. I became Iron Man because I was a man with too much blood on my hands to ever wash off. I figured it might make a dent in it.”

   “Some would say you’ve paid that back in full.”

   “Then why do my hands still feel dirty?”

   Stephen shifted just a little bit closer, letting the line of their bodies touch, “because you’re a better man than most.”

   Tony shook his head but turned briefly to press a quick kiss to Stephen’s temple. Silence descended upon them, interrupted only by the quiet sound of the water shifting against the deck and banks, the distant singing of birds.

   Not real, Stephen thought again. The sun was too bright and the quiet too perfect. Tony was alive and breathing and healing and even that suddenly felt like a little too much.

   As though sensing his thoughts, Tony leaned into him more firmly, a solid presence by his side, a solid real presence. Stephen could fall asleep there, beneath the heat of the sun and peace petting at his soul.

   “I think he’d be proud.”

   Stephen watched the way Tony’s eyes seemed to gleam with some unnamed emotion and he knew exactly what he was thinking of. A day over a year ago now, when he’d seen his father eye to eye for the first time in decades, heard his voice, felt his touch, listened to the hope and saw the nervous excitement of a parent.

   “I think you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I've been thinking about. Was Howard a 'good' father? Nah not really. Did Howard love his son? Definitely.


End file.
